War Inna Babylon! A Reflection on Black Youths at War With the State in Brixton and Beyond.

In 2001, a man was gunned down by the police on Angell Town Estate in Brixton. He had been holding a lighter shaped as a gun. The type that you can buy in novelty stores all over the country. At the time of the shooting it was a major issue in the relations between the Brixton community, the youth and the police. The local police consultation board made up of local activists and council members at the time had argued that there was evidence of the police using excessive force whilst arresting black youths, particularly boys. The police denied the charge but the relationships between the community and the police has remained steeped in subtle hostility ever since. The hostility is largely amongst the youth who have historical memory or have just become the victims of what they consider to be aggressive policing, targeted at black boys in the area in more recent times.

Last night, spontaneous unrest erupted on the same Angell Town Estate, 20 years after the scenes of 2001, when the police were called to disband a block party that had began in the afternoon and had continued into the early hours of the morning. I am not sure who organised the party but it was like the many youth dances that I attended and even ran as a youth. The disturbances took place right outside a recording studio where as a youth I used to record music with a community Elder named Daddy Noddy and the studio proprietor, Ras Earl. I used to go to the studio twice a week. We used to stand outside the studio smoking cannabis and listening to music. There were lots of youthful Reggae artists around and some older ones too. I met Tenor Fly at that studio. One of Brixton’s most well known Dancehall artists.

The scenes of police and the youth confrontation have drawn shock from many segments of the society. Although, some have accepted it as a youthful response to what was the hottest day of the year, which took place at the finally of a pandemic lockdown, others have sought to use these incidents to further their racist beliefs.

I believe in law and order. I have often sang the praises of Jamaican police officers such as Officer Laing, Bigga Ford and Renato Adams. I am very well informed that the people of Jamaica do not believe in breaking the law as a culture and there are incidents when officers are confronted by armed criminals and they shoot them fatally. Police are sometimes killed by criminals too, as was the case in the last fortnight when gunmen shot and fatally wounded Jamaican police officers. In the aftermath of the incident a veteran Jamaican politician of some merit claimed that, the system could not kill all those that had adopted the gang culture but would have to find a way to get into their minds to understand where the war against the state that has taken a grip on them comes from. Thus is the approach that I take to discussing last nights events. One of understanding in order to get to grips with youth violence in Black Britain and other parts of the world. It is clear to me and the parents of many of these youths that the society from which many of the youth who may have been involved in yesterday’s fracas descend from would be as dismayed at some of the behaviour on display in Brixton last night as some segments of the wider British public.

The events last night did bring back memories to me of being a youth, visiting friends on Angell Town Estate and spending summer evenings at the studio there. It brought back memories of the experiences of my youth that I have not really written about in my book or other writings. I thought that I would attempt to enlighten the conversation with my own experience. There are some things that are of course too candid for me to go into and detailing my experience with the criminal justice system is a chapter of a book in and of itself way too long for the platform. In my opinion.

I have never been convicted but I have been arrested and charged numerous times between the ages of 14 and 21 and have had a heart of malice, anger and resentment at both society, the state and elements of British culture that I have struggled to lose because of both circumstances and life experience as well as self-imposed identity. This is a snapshot of my experience. I am not saying that it is really bad. I am not trying to style myself as a gang leader turned good but to enlighten the conversation.

I was first arrested at the age of 14 for possession of cannabis. It was on my doorstep. I had been to the shop, as I approached my front door I was stopped by two police officers. I was searched and found to possess less than 1 gram of cannabis in my shirt pocket. I was arrested and handcuffed and taken to the local police station where I was forced to undergo a strip search which including being forced to squat, naked, in front of police officers. I was held in custody for a few hours then eventually picked up by my Mum.

That first arrest made me angry. It seemed a bit excessive to arrest and strip search a 14 year old boy over less than 1 gram of cannabis, which obviously would have been for personal use. I went in the cell as a boy who played lacrosse but smoked a little weed on the weekends and came out as a youth with a grudge against the system. The incident permeated my thoughts with ideas that the white power structure was out to get me.

I was not doing well at school. The group of 5 black boys in my classroom were often held behind for detention, at least 3 times a week and screamed at by the teachers in small rooms with filing cabinets. We were poked in the chest, pushed and often bullied by our teachers, particularly our Maths teacher, Mr Barnard. He was a footballer but he had been injured at a young age. He used to tell us his football stories and make the class laugh but he also thought he was a bit if a hard nut and made it his duty to try to knock us into shape with brutish aggression. His aggression forced us to become more aggressive in return. We learned to tell him to “shut up, your breath stinks”, we learnt to stand up and say “don’t push me, don’t push me”. In the face of aggression we learned how to fight back against it.

I was suspended from school 5 times for a total of 5–10 weeks for various offences to do with stubbornness and anger and some good old schoolboy fun.

I considered that first arrest an act of aggression, an act of violence committed against a 14 year old boy. Apart from making me angry the incident gave me a sense of fearlessness, it took away my fear of being taken into custody. It took away my fear of the system. My fear was replaced with anger and resentment.

The area where I lived was an area where there was youth violence. I lived a stones throw from William Bonney Estate, the “red flats”. It was an area that the police feared. It was home to the most notorious youth gang in Brixton’s history, the “28’s”. Gangs of youths would hang around on the streets late at night in black leather bomber jackets or trench coats. Talking to girls, smoking cannabis, rapping in Jamaican patois and getting into scuffles with police.

I was not a “28”. I was way more pro-black and political in my analysis than them even at the age of 16. I used to find them annoying and arrogant and although we acknowledged each other we were often at loggerheads. I had my people and no one could not tell us what to do because we were too serious and quiet. We couldn’t really be in a gang because we never liked taking orders or being bullied. I myself was bigger than most “28’s” at the time, although I may have been younger. My Mum was well known in the area as a community worker and I had known the youths that became notorious from 2 years old, my Father was connected with the older bad boys from the Frontline, Brixton so I had heritage and knew the names to call and who was who. They were not so much a fear factor to me but an annoyance because they used to chat rubbish. I was rebellious but I was intelligent.

Although I lived next door to the “red flats”, I was more likely to be seen nearer to the centre of Brixton, around Lambeth Town Hall on Acre Lane, Stockwell Park Estate or Studley Estate behind Stockwell tube station. I was not a “28” but I was associated with them because of the area where I lived. I displayed many of the same characteristics. Sporting a black leather jacket, smoking cannabis, rapping in Jamaican patois. This may have signalled to the police and people from other areas that I was a “28”.

Believing me to be a “28” or not was not an excuse to detain a 14 year old boy for possession of cannabis on his door-step when they could have easily just had a word with my parent. That was how I saw it in my mind. I started to hear other stories about unjust arrests and to see groups of black boys being stopped on the streets even though I knew very well that they were not “28’s”.

By the time I was 16, I was a full fledged juvenile delinquent. I was being arrested in police stations all over London and beyond. I and others were at war with capitalism and the state. The system. At 17, I missed a custodial sentence after being given a 6-month long police curfew, whilst under investigation, where I could not be on the streets after 4pm. If I was caught on the streets, I would have been sent straight to jail. I made several appearances at the Balham Youth court with a group of about 10 other youths.

My appearances at Balham Youth Court were always a whose who of South London bad boys. Every other youth that was in the culture was there as well on some charge. Once you were seen in there you were considered one of the most notorious youths on the street and your reputation spiralled.

I never became a juvenile delinquent for fun but out of a combination of anger at the white power structure because of issues of bullying at school, being arrested and detained in a cell at 14 and police harassment. My juvenile delinquency also came out of sheer poverty.

We were very poor and lived in NCH housing. My Mother was more or less a single parent with two small children and myself but I was in contact with my Father who lived on Studley Estate and later Stockwell Park Estate, both estates that I spent time on visiting friends and just hanging on the block. It was convenient for me and friends to go to my Father’s house and chill and smoke herbs sometimes instead of sitting on the block all the time. I would often eat and sometimes sleep at my Fathers house with his other children.

There were often youths at my Father’s house. He used to like talking to them about sound tapes and music. Playing the role of the Jamaican Elder and being a little bit of a Joe Fagin from Oliver Twist. That gang of youths became close friends of mine. Although, we have not been in contact for decades.

My Mother was also a student studying towards a social sciences degree at the local polytechnic on Wandsworth Road. She was not working. Apart from a cleaning job cleaning the homes of two posh white families. We were poor but my Mother’s emerging understanding of the social sciences equipped her with some skills of analysis and her community work meant that she had come into contact with the middle classes and was beginning to learn to speak their language. I had often been around when my Mother was working in the community so I had some ability to engage with middle class children, although, my toughness was scary to them. Especially as I got older.

They were not experiencing the world in the same way that I was, they were not as angry as me. They did not live in the same poverty that I lived and were not mistaken for being “28’s”. Even if they also smoked a bit of cannabis and listened to US rap music.

By the age of 16, I had come into contact with crack cocaine. It was not because cannabis was a gateway drug. The first person that I saw smoking it was not a smoker of cannabis. She was a young, single mother living in a flat in Wandsworth. I offered her weed but she said it was not her thing and proceeded to smoke a crack pipe in front of me. She was only about 18. I believe she was a care leaver. She was pretty attractive and I was quite angered that she was smoking crack.

I had a friend with me. He would end up in prison a handful of time. He was not angry. He was excited so I did not say much but I thought it was weird. She had run up a considerable debt with some dealers in the area. I guess I went there as a peacemaker of some sort. That same estate in Wandsworth would become my home for a few years after leaving my Mother’s home. It produced a crew of crackheads that are still struggling with their addictions to this day. Decades later.

After that experience, I dabbled with crack cocaine, not because I enjoyed the experience, more as a way of terrifying other youths and generally sending the message that I was an unpredictable, crack head bad man, who made money on the streets and should not be approached carelessly. Lighting up a crack joint in the club was enough to get most regular club goers shook. Even a bouncer might not try it with you if he knew you are on the “ting”, as it was known in our community at the time.

It was well known that there were a few crackhead, bad men with guns in the community that would rob you. Like in The Wire. Crack became associated with being a gangster for a time. These robbers had a certain crack fuelled persona, they used to get into nightclubs free. They were feared and respected and had lots of baby-mothers. Some of whom were the most beautiful girls in the community in their youth.

The crack hype never lasted long as a trend because people started to get destroyed by the crack and started doing strange things and people realised it was more of a sign of psychological issues than a symbol of bravery and courage and wealth. I caught that trend for about 2 years. It took off in my area too. I smoked many a crack joint with “28’s” off the “Endz”. It was a trend as big as breakdancing when it started off. Before people started going insane.

At the age of 19 my first child was born. It was not expected. I was not in the position to be a parent. I was still somewhat of a rebel. I was not a worker. I was still associated with criminals. I lived in overcrowded housing in Patmore Estate. My belief was that the system was against me.

I started to become excited by the message of Reggae music. There was a resurgence of Rastafarian consciousness within the music and it was capturing the imagination of Jamaican youth. As a child, I had travelled to Jamaica and Trinidad with Rastafarian people. I spent some months in both countries around Rastafarian people. I was comfortable with Rastafarian rhetoric and lifestyle to a large extent. The area where I lived as well as having a youth gang had a substantial Rastafarian community from the 12 Tribes of Israel London HQ that was located just outside of Brixton in Streatham.

I started to go to the library and read books about black cultural heroes. I read The Autobiography of Malcolm X. I read Revolutionary Suicide by Huey Newton. I found out about Marcus Garvey. The reading was a good outlet for my anger. I learnt the power of education from Malcolm, Huey and Marcus. I learnt the importance of doing something positive in the community. I saw how people that had been from the inner city and had engaged with crime and their local lumpen proletariat could change their lives around through education and embracing their black heritage and heroes.

I became a bookseller in Brixton market, then my journey in the politics of Black Britain really began. I came into contact with Pepukayi in Tottenham and Brother Ajani at Timbucktoo books at the Black Cultural Archives on Coldharbour Lane. I met Robin Walker.

At the age of 25 after many years of rebellion, I became a University student. I studied at night at Birkbeck College. I chose to study there because Marcus Garvey had studied there around 1914. I read that Huey Newton had become a Doctor of Philosophy at the University of Santa Cruz so I naturally chose philosophy as the subject of my first degree. I graduated with my first degree at the age of 30. I got my second degree at 35. I never quite made it to the Doctorate stage like Dr Newton but I have some insight into the machinations of the mind of those youth that spontaneously erupted in Brixton last night. I have chilled on the block right there where they erupted. It was opposite the same spot where in 2001 a youth was shot holding a lighter shaped as a gun. The type that you can purchase at a novelty shop. some years before where the police shot a youthI had some understanding as to why youths become rebellious and engage in violence.

ALT